


An Homage to Catallus, Secretly Spoken

by PlaneJane



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Coda, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlaneJane/pseuds/PlaneJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda for Merlin, 503, <i>The Death Song Of Uther Pendragon</i>.  This is Percival's story.</p><p>Why was Gwaine sleeping during the Round Table meeting?  Why was Percy, for the first time, wearing sleeves?  And how was it that a man with Percy's wits could get bested by a falling axe?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Homage to Catallus, Secretly Spoken

“At last,” Gwaine said, with a feral glint in his eyes. “I’ve been dreaming about climbing Mount Percy since the first day I laid eyes on you.”

Percy slumped back on his bed with a dismissive huff and folded his arms behind his neck. He gestured with a nod for Gwaine to close the door. “No noise, though, eh? I don’t want the others to hear us.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes and stalked over to the bed. He was only wearing night breeches and a loose tunic. Percy watched him, watched his every move, kept his mouth firmly shut and concentrated on breathing slow and deep.

It was no secret that most of the other knights had been with Gwaine, though not the new one, Mordred. Gwaine liked to spread around his affections. Percy had held back, resisted him, but Gwaine was nothing if not persistent.

Indeed, Percy hadn’t shared anything more than cups with any of the knights. On the whole he preferred an ample breast and soft thighs to a man’s sinew, but there was something about Gwaine in particular that was undeniably … compelling. Not that Gwaine needed to know. His ego was already ten times the size of Camelot.

Percy often kept his musings to himself. The other knights already thought him soft in the head after he’d confessed he enjoyed the poetry of Catallus and other literary works from the ancient world. He wasn’t about to confess to Gwaine of all people that his interest in the ancients, and his fellow knights, had extended to Greek love. He’d never live it down.

It was best to act casual, blasé, nonchalant, indifferent—

“So you’re expecting me to do all the work?” Gwaine asked, his hand already snaking its mischievous way over Percy’s chest. 

“Oh, yes.” Percy grinned. “Sometimes I forget my own strength.”

Gwaine shook his head and laughed—not too loud, mind—and said, “All right. If that’s the way you want to play it.” 

Stripping hastily, Gwaine straddled Percy’s thighs. In the dim, flickering light from the candle by Percy’s bedside, soft shadows danced over Gwaine’s bared skin. He was fine-looking; perfectly proportioned in every sense of the word. Percy licked his lips, contemplated tasting that taut flesh; felt his own flesh prickling and tensing with anticipation. 

Tugging at Percy’s hem, Gwaine said, “Help me get your shirt off, big man.”

Percy wriggled free and pulled Gwaine down to him by the scruff of his neck, taking the kiss he’d been thinking about for weeks. 

At first, Gwaine kissed back bold and sharp, his tongue taking deep swipes in Percy’s mouth while he ground his hips down. There was no mistaking his arousal rubbing into Percy’s stomach. When Percy was panting and breathless, his cock nudging out the top of his breeches, Gwaine’s kisses became more gentle and tender. He pressed his lips softly over Percy’s jaw, explored Percy’s skin with his lips and his fingers. 

He was good—really, really good. Percy couldn’t stop the quiet moans that escaped from his mouth. Gwaine took the hitch in Percy’s breath, the arch of his back and every sigh and gasp as a cue for his next move. Gwaine knew how to speak the language of love like a revered poet put his words to parchment. 

“Suck or fuck?” Gwaine’s eyes were bright in the candlelight, alight with lust and mischief.

Percy couldn’t help but laugh. He clamped his hand over his mouth to quiet himself. He wanted to flip Gwaine over, push his ankles up to his shoulders and fuck him with the full measure of his ample manhood. But the thought of that impertinent mouth wrapped around his cock, unable to utter one more word, was as thrilling as it was amusing.

Parting his fingers just enough, Percy said, “Both.”

Gwaine winked and cocked his head to the side the way he did, so his chestnut hair brushed lightly, teasingly over Percy’s skin. He sucked his way, mouthful of flesh by mouthful; a torturous and leisurely pace down, down, down Percy’s torso. When he reached the cradle of Percy’s thighs, Gwaine paused. He stared for a long moment at Percy’s cock, covered with only a layer of linen. 

“Like what you see?” Percy dared.

Gwaine looked up very slowly. He nodded slower still. Then, so quickly Percy was sure his laces snapped, Gwaine wrenched Percy’s breeches downwards. Percy’s cock sprang free—the full, thick, solid length of it slapping down onto his belly. 

Gwaine took Percy’s cock in both his fists, end to end. The head of it still showed; the slit wet with his fluid. Percy pushed up into the touch and swallowed thickly. There hadn’t been many a wench that Percy could fuck with abandon. He’d always had to be gentle, careful. And he hated seeing a woman choking on him even if they claimed they wanted him to fuck their mouths. Somehow, with Gwaine, there was no such hesitation on Percy’s part. Gwaine was strong and fearless and thrived on pushing his limits. He wasn’t showing any signs of backing out of this. If anything, he was handling Percy like he knew _exactly_ what to do with the monster in his hands.

When Gwaine bent down and sucked the head of Percy’s cock into his mouth, Percy gasped like a girl. He banged his head back into the pillow, panting out breathlessly, quickly, “Yes. Like that.”

Gwaine hummed. Gwaine touched Percy’s balls, rolled them in his fingers while his head bobbed up and down. Percy relaxed back and closed his eyes. The hot, wet slide of Gwaine’s mouth took him over. There was nothing but the pressure on his cock, squeezing then easing in a sweet, steady rhythm, sparking pleasure over Percy like the spread of wildfire over a parched field. 

It would have been bliss, to let Gwaine keep on and on; suck the seed from him. Percy could have let it go, let Gwaine choke down his spill. But Gwaine stopped sucking as Percy’s balls grew tighter with his impending climax. 

“That was amazing.” Percy lifted his head to see Gwaine on his hands and knees, the tendons across his shoulders trembling in the flickering light. “Come here.”

“I’m going to need a minute,” Gwaine said, kneeling up, looking wrecked. His chin was wet and his shoulders and cheeks were flushed ruddy red. 

It took Percy a moment to understand what he meant. Percy frowned, not sure what to do next. “Should I … um?” 

“Give me the oil. Said I’d do all the work, didn’t I?”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Gwaine winked as he unstoppered the vial. Straddling Percy’s waist, he drizzled his fingers, reached behind himself and let out a relieved sigh.

Percy was enthralled. With his hands on Gwaine’s hips he held him steady and couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Gwaine. By the gods. If you could only see yourself.”

He half expected a smart reply but there was none. Gwaine’s eyelids fluttered closed and his lips parted while he worked himself open. The muscle in his shoulder rippled with the effort. His cock jutted out in front of him, begging to be touched.

Tentatively at first, Percy took his hand from Gwaine’s hip. He could easily keep him steady with just the other one. He ran the back of his fingers the length of Gwaine’s cock, tip to base, over his balls and up again. Gwaine let out a groan and worked his fingers inside himself harder—the force of it pushing him forward into Percy’s touch.

Spurred on by Gwaine’s pleasure, Percy took him loosely in his fist and with no more than a ghost-like grip rubbed up, down, up, down, the length of Gwaine’s cock. 

Gwaine opened his eyes. “Slowly, big man. I’m teetering here.” 

“Are you ready?” Percy’s voice sounded ragged even to his own ears.

Gwaine nodded. 

It seemed like forever, like time was standing still, for Gwaine to slide down the full length of Percy’s cock. Percy could do nothing but run his hands softly up and down Gwaine’s arm while he was enveloped in the tight clasp of Gwaine’s hole around his cock. When Gwaine breathed out, long and steady, then began to move, Percy felt like lightning was striking through his whole body.

“I won’t last,” Gwaine panted out, slamming his hips down.

Percy knew he wouldn’t either. He could do nothing but nod and take Gwaine’s cock in his fist. 

Percy felt Gwaine clench around his cock before the stutter of his hips and the pulsing release of his seed. Every inch of Gwaine’s body tensed. The immense strength of him was echoed by the power in his climax. It was a magnificent sight—thrilling beyond words.

Gwaine only stilled for a few moments, catching his breath and leaning forward to bruise Percy with a kiss. Percy could feel Gwaine’s heart pounding fast and heavy in his chest, the slide of the sweat across his back and heat radiating off him like summer sun. He was melting in Percy’s arms.

It took no effort to lift Gwaine and turn him onto his back. He smiled lazily and spread his legs, held them out with his arms hooked behind his knees. “Come on then,” he said.

Gwaine’s hole was loose and open. Percy slid in with ease. He rested his weight on his arms and fucked Gwaine hard. Gwaine wrapped his legs around Percy’s waist and held on, like he was being carried by a storm. He didn’t relent, didn’t let go as Percy thrust harder, faster, ever closer to crashing. 

When Percy came it was with a final, violent shudder and a deep, loud groan. 

Gwaine’s legs slipped from around him, as he murmured with his eyes closed, “Okay. Dead now.”

Percy wiped Gwaine clean and turned him on his side so he could fit in the narrow bed beside him. “Stay if you like,” he said.

He got no reply except the sound of Gwaine snoring. 

Percy lay awake for a time. He could never have imagined his heart would feel so full from this experience. His affection for Gwaine was all at once changed and there was no going back from it. Not that he could ever let Gwaine know—that went without question. Everyone knew Percy was a tender-hearted man, but of this he could only speak to the darkness.

With his arm wrapped around Gwaine, he whispered, “If I were always allowed to kiss your honey-sweet eyes, I might kiss you three hundred thousand times, and never be sated.” Then he kissed Gwaine once, softly, on the back of his head. 

 

_Epilogue, Part 1_

It was far too early the next day that a bleary-eyed Gwaine stumbled from Percy’s bed, his finger pressed to his mouth as he backed away towards the door. 

“I think it’s a bit late to worry about discretion,” Percy whispered. In any case, he didn’t much care anymore.

Hands on his hips, naked as the day he was born, Gwaine said, “You won’t be putting on sleeves today then?” 

Squinting in the dusky morning light, Percy took a scrutinising look at his arms. There was a bitten bruise on the inside of his bicep—a big, rosy, impudent bruise. Of course there was—that bloody Gwaine just had to leave his mark, didn’t he? 

Percy rubbed his finger over the offended flesh, secretly glad.

 

_Epilogue, Part 2_

Perhaps Percy hadn’t entirely had his wits about him that day, after the Round Table meeting. His mind had been on Gwaine, if truth be told; on the night they’d spent together. He might be slower taking off his armour than the other knights, but he wasn’t _slow._ And it really wasn’t like him to be caught off guard, let alone to be bested, by a falling axe of all things. 

He rolled out his shoulder and barely felt the wound sting. The poultice Gaius had given him to prevent infection and speed healing was working its magic. Which was good news; missing training was one thing but being left to sort out a mending pile for the seamstress was quite another. How Elyan had managed to work a hole in his breeches _there_ was not something Percy cared to dwell on.

“I brought you some fruit, and a chicken,” Gwaine said, striding through the door with a wooden platter in one hand and a flagon of wine in the other.

“Been chatting up cook again?”

“You know me.”

Percy smiled. “I do. But a _whole_ chicken?”

“Yeah. You got to eat well to heal up.”

Gwaine sat down opposite Percy and swept the garments on the table to one side. The waft of roasted meat and herbs and the aroma of warm spiced wine had Percy’s mouth watering before he realised he was starving. He grabbed a leg from the bird and, mouth half full, said, “We’ll share it. Quick, before the others get here.”

They were tucking in, with greasy fingers and shiny lips, warm to the gills with wine, when the door to the knights’ common room opened. It was Leon. Gwaine gave him a cursory glance then turned his attentions back to a juicy hunk of breast. Percy supposed if they were going to get punished Gwaine at least wanted to make sure he’d had his fill.

But there was no admonition. In fact, Leon didn’t even seem to notice the contraband on the table between them.

“Is everything all right?” Percy asked him.

“Yes. I think.” Leon paused. “You like poetry, don’t you?”

“Yes ... yes, I do.” Percy glared at Gwaine, who didn’t even look up. He slumped as it dawned on him that Gwaine must have heard him that night. When he'd told him not to worry about discretion, he hadn’t meant that Gwaine could blab his mouth off to the others about something so private. He sighed. “What of it?”

“Arthur," Leon said, like that would explain everything. When Percy looked at him still puzzled, Leon went on, "Arthur’s never mentioned to you a fondness for poetry, has he?”

“Arthur?” Percy couldn’t help but bellow. “No. Never.”

Leon frowned and nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

With no further explanation, Leon shook his head and walked back out the door.

Percy was flummoxed, but at the same time relieved. Perhaps Gwaine hadn't heard him reciting, confessing. “What was that all about?”

Gwaine shrugged, then smirked into his goblet. “Three hundred thousand kisses, maybe?”

The relief was short-lived, unlike his impending humiliation. "You heard."

“I did.”

Percy’s face burned with embarrassment. Gwaine put down his wine and reached across the table. He took Percy’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

Still, Percy couldn’t look at Gwaine. He kept his gaze on their hands and tried to laugh as he said, “You don’t think I can count that high, do you?”

“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. _Maybe_ we’ll just have to find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a number of prompts at the [S5 Comment Fest](http://magnolia822.livejournal.com/28970.html). It's also posted on my [journal.](http://planejane.livejournal.com/157030.html)
> 
> Percy's confession to Gwaine is by the Roman poet, Catallus, _48: Passion, to Iuventius_
> 
> Iuventius, if I were always allowed  
> to kiss your honey-sweet eyes,  
> I might kiss you three hundred  
> thousand times, and never be sated,  
> not even if my kisses were more  
> than the crop’s ripe ears of wheat.


End file.
